The Passings and Goings In Life
by BabyAlyx96
Summary: Snippets into Greg's life that come from imagination. Each chapter is its own story. Read the authors note inside for more information. Ratings will vary, as will ships and content. Warnings will be made.
1. Turn of the Knob

**Authors Note (Read Before Starting Story!!): First off, each chapter has no connetion with any of the other chapters. Each is its own story, unless said so. These are, as the title says, the passings and goings in life. That life, would be Gregs'. Mainly short stories focusing on little moments. Some will be funny, some will be sad, some will be rated G, some may be rated higher. There will always be a warning. With that said, enjoy. Please leave feedback, comments, criticism. I love to hear from you all and improve to the best of my ability.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Title: Turn of the Knob**

**Summary: Greg's having problems after the explosion concerning the equipment.**

**Rating: G, or possibly PG. Nothing really offensive.**

**Spoilers: Play With Fire**

* * *

How long he stood there, he wasn't sure. He could see the shadows of people walking past on the equipment. They walked on, not even glancing at him, or if they did, it was quick enough for him to not sense the looks. Over the past day or two, people had looked and the looks had lingered longer than before. It annoyed him at the beginning but then that faded. If it had happened to somebody else, he would have stared also, curious to the thoughts running through their brain. 

A small sigh moved his shoulders more than he had remembered; skin stretching slowly, pain erupting like little shocks. He kept his back as still as possible, but knew that soon he'd have to move, bend. His eyes shifted to the glass wall to see another person staring before turning his gaze back upon the object before him. It sat there, looking innocent. It hadn't been the problem then. No, it was a cousin, or distant brother, but it still looked the same.

Blinking, his eyelids staying closed a second too long, images running through his mind. It was like he could feel his feet lifting from the ground, body twisting while being thrown; the glass shattering against his back, arms raised, then hard cement connecting with his legs and arms. When he thought about it, knowing it was a memory, the feeling went away, no longer being able to feel the sensations. Now it was just an image, and while a part of him was glad, another wasn't. Maybe if he could go back to that time, feel the pain again, he would realize that he could be angry with Catherine. But he couldn't, only the equipment offended him.

Opening his eyes, the object was still there, staring up at him. A sneer-like expression was strewn across his face, reflection thrown back at him. Then, quickly as possibly, eyes now shut tightly, his arm shot out and turned the knob. A moment of silence, of anticipation, stilled the air, until the pause was over and noise filtered back in.

Slowly, eyes opened to see that the knob had been successfully turned and nothing had blown up. His eyes then looked over the box, once, then twice, and another time for good measure. Nothing in there that could be turned into a potential bomb. Sitting down on the swivel chair which was as hard as steel, the old one having been incinerated, he watched. It would take time before things went back to semi-normal.

With the push of his heel, he took his time wheeling away from the box, eyes still fixed on the Bunsen burner. The only reason his eyes left the object was when he felt the wheels hit the opposite wall. Glancing behind him, realizing how far he'd gone, he rose from the chair. Backing out of the room now, wanting more space between him and the fume hood, he entered the A/V Lab which was currently occupied by Archie.

"Greg..?" he questioned, not entirely confused by the man's actions. Greg wasn't one for being normal, but even this was a little weird. Following the gaze, Archie saw the fume hood and nodded, realization coming to him. Letting Greg do what he wanted, since he hadn't spoken a word yet, Archie turned back to the computer he was working on.

Sitting down in one of the extra chairs in the room, Greg ignored the questioning tone of Archie's and continued staring, waiting for the time to be up. In another minute or so he'd have to carefully make his way in, turn the burner off, and continue on with his experiments. Soon everything would be fine by a turn of the knob.


	2. STD's

**Title: S.T.D.'s**

**Authors Note: No idea where this idea came from; It just kind of appeared. All is meant in good fun, remember that. And, as far as I know, Greg has not appeared in any magazines or forensic journals or anything like that.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone. The magazine, while may be the actual name of a magazine, came entirely from imagination. If there is such a magazine out there, I do not own it either.**

**Summary: Greg recieves a magazine, but when the name is revealed, the others are very confused.**

**Rating: PG, because of the use of S.T.D.'s. Only PG because of the fact that it's an innuendo, and not the actual term many think of.**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

"Yes! Finally!" Cries of joy continued to echo down the hall and towards the break room where the CSI graveyard shift were currently stationed. Glancing out of the room, they saw Greg bouncing gleefully towards them. Upon entering, he stuffed a rolled up magazine under his arm and headed straight for the coffee pot. 

"Why so happy, Greg?" questioned Grissom, the others nodding in agreement. Grabbing a mug, Greg started to pour himself some coffee and answer the questions without turning.

"I got S.T.D's," was his obviously excited reply. Silence hung thickly in the air as the group exchanged glances. Placing the coffee pot down, Greg spun around to face the group and saw their expressions.

Furrowing an eyebrow in confusion, he said, "What?" Catherine cleared her throat slightly.

"You're happy you have S.T.D's?" she asked, timidly. Greg started to nod before he realized what they thought he was talking about. Screwing up his face into one of disgust he furiously shook his head.

"Oh, man! No!" Hastily, he placed his coffee cup on the counter, spilling some in the process, and unrolled the magazine. He held it out so they could all see the cover which had the acronym, S.T.D's, written boldly in red.

"Scientific Technology Discoveries!" Grissom nodded slightly, and held out his hand in a silent plea to look at the magazine. Greg handed it over and watched as Grissom flipped through it.

"I've heard of this magazine. I actually got it the other day..." He then opened it to a certain page and started to show it to the others, Greg's displeasure ignored. Shutting up, Greg crossed his arms and waited for the jokes to come.

"Greg... Why didn't you say anything?" Glancing down, he shrugged.

"You guys would have turned it into a joke of some sort." Looking up, he saw the group shaking their heads.

"No we wouldn't, Greg. This is pretty amazing." A small grin started to form itself.

"Really?"

"Of course. Now, I think we should go get some breakfast. Coming Greg?" Greg nodded and happily walked off with the group to the parking lot.

A few minutes later, Hodges entered the break room and saw the magazine on the table. Curiosity peaked as he looked at the page it was open to. Staring right back at him was a picture of Greg grinning and the headline, 'STD's Talks with Lab Technician Extraordinaire, Gregory Sanders'. A thump echoed throughout the room.


	3. Drowning Has Its Perks

**Title: Drowning Has Its Perks**

**Authors Note: Now... the ending to this may seem a little corny, as may the rest of the story, but before you judge it... This actually happened to a friend of mine. Stupidly of us, while babysitting a little seven year old during the summer, we took him to a public pool. I still tease my friend about kissing the little girl on the cheek, but iwas kind of cute too. Hee.**

****

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone. I do not own the game, Marco Polo, nor do I own Disney. I don't even own the idea, really. And Lindseys age? Me no own that either.**

**Summary: Catherine has a pool party for Lindsey, which gets out of control. When she calls in some help, she doesn't realize what she's getting them into.**

**Rating: PG, because of a near drowning experience which was sort of self inflicted which may cause some people to scream 'Suicide!' Just being safe.**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

The calls of the words "Marco" and "Polo" penetrated the sounds of nature, the mid-afternoon sun shining brightly down. A pool party signifying the beginning of the summer heat was held in the backyard of Catherine Willows. Originally, only Lindsey and a few friends were to attend but soon enough the whole grade four class had gathered, forcing Catherine to call in reinforcements.  
  
The first to arrive was Greg Sanders decked out in shorts that went to his knees and a white muscle shirt, towel slung over his shoulder. Smiling at the older woman's grateful thank yous, he waved them off by asking where the pool was.  
  
A minute or two went by when Sara Sidle wandered up to Catherine. They exchanged greetings, Catherine about to remark on Sara's bikini when high pitched squeals broke through their conversation. Both looked over to the pool where Greg was currently shirtless and standing in front of a bunch of nine-year-olds who were giggling. Blushing, he tried to push past them, while still being nice, in order to get to the glistening water.  
  
Laughter emitted from the women's mouths as they watched the scene fold out. Without having to wait too long, Gil Grissom, Warrick Brown and Nick Stokes arrived wearing shorts and t-shirts. The girls raised their eyebrows at Grissom's attire causing him to explain it was Nick and Warrick's doing.  
  
Soon, the party was in full swing, the CSI's sitting around the pool watching the twenty-five nine year olds and Greg splash about in the pool. Several times Greg had tried to jump out to take a rest but was pulled back in by several girls, even a few guys, to the amusement of the adults. It was keeping the kids occupied enough to not bother their chat, and also provided entertainment at the expense of Greg.  
  
"Marco!" cried out Greg, arms out in front of him like a zombie and eyes shut tightly. His body felt like it was on fire, the sunscreen had washed off from the endless hours in the water. He heard the screams of 'Polo' coming at him from every direction, and knew that even if he tagged one of the kids, they'd never leave the game. He could swear they were multiplying. Deciding to have a little bit of fun, as well as purposefully trying to hurt himself, he start to spin around, arms waving around frantically, hoping he'd slip.  
  
A girlish scream echoed in his head as he felt a limb from another body come in contact with his leg, pushing it out from underneath him. Eyes now open, facial expression comical, he fell backwards into the water. He hadn't been expecting such a quick fall and gulped in water by accident. Furiously he pushed his head out of the water and started gasping for air, choking in the process.  
  
From his right he heard a scolding yell of, "Lindsey!" but it didn't quite register why someone was yelling at the young girl until something hit his chest. It caused the wind to get knocked out of him, and Greg wondered if this was how he was going to die; being beaten to death by nine year olds and finally drowning. He then felt his body being dragged out of the pool and knew that that wasn't the case.  
  
The chilly cement on his back made him shiver, a cross between coughing and choking sounds emitting from his mouth. Greg made to roll over onto his side, like they did in movies, but was forced to stay still on his back. If he wasn't struggling to keep air in his lungs he probably would have been laughing at the chaos that had ensued. Nine-year-old girls ran around screaming while the young boys just looked on, fascinated. The adults seemed panicked, although the only two that were moving were Nick and Catherine.  
  
Pressure was being forced onto his chest, and Greg looked up at the hazy figure of Nick. Was Nick trying to give him CPR? A small smile was formed and when he started to try and speak, more coughing noises came out. Pushing Nick away with all the strength he could muster, Greg rolled over and started to cough out water. Finally able to sit, he turned and lightly glared at Nick.  
  
"Are you trying to kill me? You let the water come out, not start CPR on a living person." Nick blushed and shrugged slightly. Greg's frown faded into a smile. "Thanks for taking me out of the water though.  
  
"Now... Who tripped me?" He glanced over at the group of elementary kids and waited for someone to speak up. Nervously, a little brown haired girl raised her hand slowly. Standing up, Greg headed over to her before picking the girl up, like a princess in those Disney movies. Quietly he whispered, "Hold your breath." before jumping into the pool cannonball style, girl still in his arms. Emerging, the girl was blushing but grinning all the same.  
  
"You're not mad?" Greg shook his head while placing the girl on the edge of the pool. Getting out himself, he bent down and kissed her on the cheek.  
  
"Who's up to not playing in the pool for awhile?" Greg grinned at the screams made by the kids and watched them run off, away from the pool.  
  
"You okay, Greg?" He glanced over at the group of adults and nodded.  
  
"Not the first time I ever purposefully got an injury to get out of something." With that, he ran after the kids, picking two up in his arms as he went passed, their screams of shock echoing. The CSI's just shook their head in amazement at the man who was currently playing hopscotch with the group of girls.


	4. Swiftly Move

**Title: Swiftly Move**

**Authors Notes: So.. yes. This just came to me one night while listenning to some classical music. Can you guess the form of art he's watching before I reveal it in the story? Not too hard, I don't think. I used to do this for about five years, but I quit. Why oh why did I?? And the battery thing. That happened to me once while trying to change the channel. I have a new remote, now. And I didn't call it a 'clicker' in the story! Go me! (A clicker is what I was brought up to call it, but apparently people don't like it very much. Hmm.)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone. I do not own this form of art either.**

**Summary: While flipping through the channels during a slow night, Greg finds an interesting show on. And then, the group of CSI's return.**

**Spoilers: None.**

**Rating: PG because of the mention of some eating disorders.**

* * *

The cushions upon the couch curved and dented with his every move, filling up empty space. Leaning back, arms wrapped around a pillow he'd gotten from somewhere unknown against his chest. Legs stretched out and heels placed in shoes, sat on the low coffee table. Eyes were riveted to the raised screen in the room, following the beauty. Music played, drifting lightly from the speakers at times, striking at his eardrums during moments.

Somehow he had stumbled across the currently playing form of art. He knew if someone were to walk in, see what he saw, he knew there would be no end to the teasing; the torture. However, no matter how many times he demanded his brain to send signals to his fingers, to touch the button once, or twice, to change channel, it never worked. The music, the way the art moved gracefully across the screen, back and forth, was ensnaring.

He was sure his facial expression was in one of awe, or possibly void of any emotion. Just eyes staring, mouth hanging open slightly, not being able to tear his attention away for one moment. Now he knew how others could sit for an hour or two watching what was laid out in front of them. How people could sit in a room, eyes closed, mind blank, and listen to music which was heavenly. There was no other way he could describe the sounds that entered his head.

And later, maybe he could tell others how it was the costumes that showed so little, even for those of the same sex. Although, the amount of times he could use that excuse could not amount to the many times he'd be watching a show like this in the future. The graceful features of those on the screen amazed him, made him think of how one could make it look as if they were defying the laws of physics. And not only that, but the way moves were made that showed how the music sounded. It seemed weird to think of being able to show a way something sounded but these people, they seemed to pull it off.

Moisture started to makes its way out of the side of his lips and he quickly swallowed, bringing up a hand to erase the offensive drool. Over and over he continued to tell himself it wasn't the beauty of the art, nor the music, or the way the whole thing made him speechless, but the girls. They were all so young, some seeming skinnier than models. It made him think of how much training they went through, how much was expected of girls so young. He'd bet that some had disorders, trying to make themselves live up to what was supposed to be, trying to get rid of the insults shot at them daily.

Never could he live a life like that, people telling you how worthless and how ugly you were on a day to day basis. In his job, during stressful days, he sometimes got nagged but nothing that could amount to something as drastic as changing himself to fit a specific norm. And in the end, he was always apologized to, but these girls never got that, never get a sense of peace.

Maybe it wasn't just the girls, the guys too, but how would guys be forced to diet, or to binge and purge? For most guys it was either, you have the body or you don't. Although, he supposed there were guys out there in the business that had the same kinds of disorders the girls had. Nobody talked about those cases though, them being rare, or not being brought to the light as much as with the opposite sex.

Chatter growing louder, nearing the room he was sitting in, startled him into a panic. As swiftly as possible, heart hammering in his chest, he dove for the remote that sat beside him. The voices became clearer and he knew who it was, but before they could enter or see what was playing on the screen, he began pushing buttons furiously. None that he wanted to press though, the sound being muted, then turned up louder, subtitles starting to show, although nothing was being said. Fingers scrambling around the remote, sweat starting to form on his forehead, he bit his lip and pressing a button extremely hard by mistake. The back popped off, the batteries following suit. Swearing, he reached for them, knowing in the back of his mind it was too late. The voices had already entered the room, fading away as they saw him, red-faced, arms stretched out towards the batteries, music playing in the background.

"Greg?" came a timid voice from the front of the group. He cleared his throat, and grabbed the batteries before turning to face Catherine. His face was hot from embarrassment, and although it was wishful thinking that they might believe he was just flipping through channels when they entered, he tried for the sake of it.

"I... I was searching for something to watch and then the batteries popped out and I heard you guys from down the hall and..." He was rambling, and by the look on their faces, they weren't believing any of it.

"Ballet, man?" questioned Warrick, frowning slightly. Nick, head barely visible as he was near the back of the group, tried to muffle his laugh. Greg bit his lip once more and shrugged.

"Girls." There was a pause as the group seemed to contemplate the excuse, Nick's chuckles still heard, although drifting to a stop. Another moment, and they were nodding, believing the reason and starting to chatter away again, people going for the coffee.

Greg, however, could still feel someone's eyes keeping him under their gaze. Looking at each person in question, he stopped as he came upon Grissom, brows furrowed slightly in concentration. Smiling sheepishly, knowing Grissom would understand, as he himself was a fan of classical music. Greg got a knowing look in response before somebody else captured the older mans attention. Smiling, Greg turned his eyes back towards the screen, memorizing the channel number for later use. He quickly replaced the batteries where they belonged and turned the television off with a click.


	5. Mission Impossible

**Title: Mission Impossible**

**Authors Note: I was watching Precious Metals and this idea just popped into my head. Hopefully it doesn't seem too cheesy or whatever. But seriously. You need a little happy dance in awhile.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone. I also do not own Snoopy, nor his happy dance, Mission Impossible, MIB, and Tom Cruise.**

**Summary: After letting Grissom know that money didn't matter to him, Greg has the urge to do a happy dance. But what if Grissom sees? Or it gets back to him? Time for the Mission Impossible.**

**Rated: G cause its all good fun. It's a happy story, children. Smacking someone across the head sin't bad, right?**

**Spoilers: Precious Metals from uh... Season 3? or 2? One of those.**

* * *

"_Good to know."_ Grissoms words rang in his head, giving him a little hope as well as a little smile. The money didn't matter to him, although it was a nice incentive, but he was sure he could live without it. Smacking his pen against his hand, pondering over the conversation that had just occurred, Greg found himself restraining against the urge to do a Snoopy happy dance. At least, for now.

Seconds, minutes, dragged on by and soon the urge was going to take over. He hadn't been one to not let himself go, but since those words and that look came from Grissom, his perspective started to change. Grissom was finally starting to see another side of Greg, the side that was mature, or as mature as he got. He didn't want news to get back to Grissom that minutes after having an adult conversation with the lab tech, said person did a happy dance.

Pushing his chair away from the work station, Greg stood and headed out into the corridor. Checking each way, making sure Grissom had retreated to his office, or somewhere far away from the DNA Lab, Greg began his journey. First was the task of getting past Archie, a good friend of his, who always knew when something was up.

Feeling like he was Tom Cruise, minus women hanging off of him, in Mission Impossible, he leaned against the wall. Carefully, he peered around the panel and into the A/V Lab. It was empty, a frozen picture of a busy casino, the Rampart it looked like, on the large screen. Quickly, Greg ran by the glass walls, the first time in his life at the Las Vegas Crime Lab wishing there were normal walls. That phase went by quickly, shaking the absurd thought out of his head.

Next was Jacqui, another good friend of his, as well as a betting buddy. Nick had Warrick, and he had Jacqui. All made sense in the world again. Once more he glanced around the corner, this time not so lucky, and saw the woman sitting hunched over a computer. Greg figured that all lab technicians looked alike while at work. Just change a few physical attributes, as well as whatever object they were pouring over, and you've got the exact same stance.

Twisting slightly, he looked behind him to see Archie standing in the doorway of the A/V Lab looking at Greg in confusion. Cursing the layout of the building as it had nowhere to hide, Greg took off at a run down the hallway, ignoring looks given by others, as well as the danger of being seen by Jacqui. If he'd been spotted once, it didn't matter how many times again as the alert was already up.

A loud thump was heard as Greg ran full speed into the bathroom door, pushing it open with his body and wasting no time getting into a stall. Locking the door behind him, Greg quickly bent over to look under the stall walls. No other feet were visible, so that meant he was alone, which he was grateful for. Sometimes he could get a little loud while doing a happy dance.

He then began, arms waving madly, other body parts joining in on the fun. This was the most fun he'd had in a long time during work hours. Although, he probably thought that whenever something else fun happened to him, and he just repeatedly forgot the experiences. Whatever the reason, his twirling and hitting the toilet paper dispenser many times over, made him giggle out loud.

The sound that emitted from his lips made him stop dead, goofy grin frozen on his face. Had he just giggled? Slowly he brought his raised arms downwards to his side, smile fading away, and eyes boring into the stall door. Greg Sanders had just giggled. Like a girl. He was horrified, and like a zombie he opened the door and looked into the mirror. The stunned face that met him, cheeks red from the activity he had just done, chest rising and falling heavily, made him laugh. First a chuckle, and then a loud, hearty laugh.

By the time he was finished, Greg was leaning against the counter for support and a guy from some department had walked in, then left. He found it slightly ironic how he believed the story of him doing a happy dance would convince Grissom how immature he truly was, but the story of him running around the lab, trying to not reveal the happy dance, would do him in. If that didn't, the laughing at your reflection in a crazy, psycho way was sure to get his attention.

Shaking his head, wiping tears that had leaked out, Greg pulled the door open and headed out into the hallway. People still wandered around, oblivious to the nutcase that was standing there, waiting for someone to runaway screaming. Another chuckle escaped his lips as he wandered back towards the DNA Lab. While passing both Jacqui's and Archie's stations, he found them empty, and shrugged, figuring they just ignored his antics as always.

However, waiting for him back in the lab was none other than the A/V and fingerprint technician. Eager eyes met his and he found himself grinning while sitting down in the familiar swivel chair. Jacqui rolled her eyes, knowing Greg was drawing the moment out, waiting until the two couldn't take it anymore. Archie, however, was used to this treatment and was starting to get annoyed by it happening every single time, so to fix it, he smacked Greg across the head.

"Spill it. Why'd you go all MIB on us?" Greg glared the Asian as he rubbed the side of his head.

"I didn't go MIB on you, it's called Mission Impossible. Get your movies straight, Arch." All he got was a shrug in response, so he sighed and began to tell his tale, starting from the fact that he'd actually gotten to go undercover.


	6. Haut Et Bas

**Title: Haut Et Le Niveau Bas**

**Authors Note: Umm... Brought on by watching the episode. Uh, one of my first slash fics which I don't mind too much. Weird.**

Warning: This is a slash fic. Nick and Greg are paired together, and there is the mention of gay sex. Do not read if you don't like that stuff, and don't flame.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Summary: Greg's in a mood. Why?**

**Rating: I'm going to say... PG-13 because of the mention of sex.**

**Spoilers: High and Low**

* * *

"_Epithelials on the slashed canopy match the ones on the sleeping bag drawstring. Fred Dacks, both places. Thank you and goodnight."_ But did they leave? No, and that's what bothered him the most. He may have been rude, or as Hodges liked to say, curt, but he was fed up with Nick's flaunting. When currently residing in a fight, you do not hang around and bug person in said fight. Number one rule. 

Hoping they'd take the hint, sooner or later, he heads over to another part of the lab. A place where he can hear what they say, just incase, but make it seem like he's ignoring them. Hands move over scientific instruments, never touching one, not brave enough to not pay attention to the chemicals he used.

"_So Fred does a number on Jimmy's canopy to keep him from flying."_ He fights his urge to grind his teeth, knowing it would only give him a headache, improving his mood by less. The two men were like little, annoying brothers who followed you around all day without realizing how annoying they truly were.

"_He's threatened by the guy. It's to keep from getting shown up, you know."_ And now it's the urge to sigh he's fighting, not letting that sexy Texan accent get to him. It's always the accent that gets him, and those glasses. But tonight Nick's not wearing them, so there's nothing to worry about besides the accent and that body.

"_He needs to be the top dog, huh?"_ Now he's glad he's still facing the wall, blush not visible to the other two men. He could sort of see their reflection in the glass, but not enough to tell any distinct expressions, their heads just blurs.

"_Hmm."_ That non-committal noise makes a groan almost pass through his lips. So many times that sound had been heard in the early light of the day, sometimes at night even, and it was still as wonderful. The same sound for different actions, emotions, in different tones.

"_Yeah, that sounds like you."_ He shook his head slightly, knowing he'd have to intervene within a matter of moments. If he couldn't stand being in the same room with them just talking, there was no way he'd stay sane if they started bickering.

"_Who?"_

"_You." _

"_That sounds like both of you. Now please, can you take this somewhere else?"_ Hodges would be proud, and now that that thought had entered his brain, he cringed slightly. Making his way around the table and behind Nick, he starts trying to distract himself with DNA. It's the only way.

"_So... Jimmy gets a new canopy. Flies, dies. Comes down unattached. We got no canopy, we got no harness."_ Then the two should be out looking for the equipment. Outside. Away from the DNA lab. Very far away. Especially Nick.

"_If we want to find out what happened, we need to find that rig."_ And now they're getting somewhere. Seeing this as his cue, he quickly turns himself around, placing the DNA samples on the table, one arm reaching around Nick's shoulders.

"_Well, you're not going to find it here."_ That smell that made Nick so delicious in his mind wafted in and up into his nose. A part of him just wanted to bury his face into Nick's neck, but knew that all would not be forgiven so easily. Plus, Warrick might get suspicious.

With those thoughts now running through his brain, he grabbed that toy out of Nicks hands and proceeded to tip the chair forwards. Where'd he get that toy anyways? He'd been looking for that for a few weeks now. The loud protests of Nick, mostly made up of 'Heys' was heard as the man fell onto his feet, off the chair. The startled and confused look that was present on Nicks face made Greg even more annoyed, causing him to say, 'Go', although all he wanted to do was yell the word.

"_Have you taken your medication today?"_

"_See ya."_ As he turned his back to Warrick, not even bothering to watch them go, he thinks about what the man had just said. Had he taken his medication that day? Obviously, Warrick had meant it as a joke, but contrary to popular belief, Greg did take medication. Apparently he was paranoid, or too stressed out, or something that caused his doctor to send him to a psychiatrist.

He thought hard, trying to recall the hours before leaving home for work. The days had blended together, leaving him confused if it was today or yesterday he had popped those pills. He hadn't, he remembered it now. The pills were sitting on the island in his kitchen, waiting to be swallowed. He had taken them out and went to get a glass of water when the phone had rung, making him forget previous tasks.

Sighing, he began to work on processing evidence. He supposed he needed to make it up to Nick, as all day he'd been in a mood, convinced Nick was flaunting about, making passes at every guy in sight. That day was as good as any to let Nick in on his little problem. Maybe he'd get great sex. Oh, who was he kidding? He got that anyways.


	7. HAL

**Title: HAL**

**Authors Note: I'm not entirely happy with this one, but whatever. I may go back and rewrite it some day. Ha. And if you're slightly confused by 'HAL', it's the computer in 2001: A Space Odyssey which tries to kill everyone because he overheard them talking about disabling him. Oh, and by the way, I'm not sure if Grissom actually signs his paycheck, but whatever. This is my fantasy world.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone. I also do not own HAL.**

**Summary: When people go running when Grissom mentions the word 'experiment', he figures Greg has got to do something with it.**

**Rating: G**

**Spoilers: Let The Seller Beware and the episode where Judy has to drag Warrick across the room. Also, Lady Heathers Box and uh... the other one she was in. Erg. Sorry, bad with names.**

* * *

"Greg? A word." Greg nodded, eyes still fixed upon the evidence in front of him. Grissom took a few more steps towards the lab technician, interested in what he was currently working on. However, before he could get a good look, Greg pushed it away, out of view, turning to the older man.

"What can I do for you?" Grissom furrowed his eyebrows, looking curiously at Greg. He reminded himself why he was there and glared slightly.

"When I go looking for someone to help with an experiment, people go running. What did you say?" Greg shifted slightly, glancing out the glass walls towards Jacqui, who quickly busied herself with work. Frowning, he glanced back at his boss and sighed.

"I've been warning people; ever since that foot mildew."

"I know that Greg. Judy told me." Greg made a mental note to track down Judy after this talk was finished. "But why?"

"Because not everybody likes having the risk of ending up dead from some crazy experiment." Grissom frowned as if that had never occurred to him. "Look... Just... Let them know what's going on before you confine them a day of pain."

"You weren't in pain, were you?" Greg snorted.

"There was a rash on my foot. The same thing that helps me get around." He rolled his eyes. "Plus, I had to stay here an extra six hours. Time I could have been sleeping instead of working overtime."

"If you like I could give you an extra day off." Grissom didn't know what to say, confused by what Greg was telling him. He didn't know what to do.

"That's not the point, Grissom. You... you have to think of how other people are going to react. We're not all like you."

"I've had this talk with Catherine before," recalled Grissom, remembering the conversation in the parking lot. "Apparently I have no personal stuff, or emotions."

"That's not what I'm saying." Grissom raised an eyebrow. "Partly because you sign my paycheck, partly because it's not true. You have personal things. Like..." Greg paused, trying to think up an example.

"You have nothing."

"Wait and let me finish thinking." Greg blinked for a few moments. "Lady Heather. She was personal, wasn't she?" Grissom glared.

"She was just the owner of the S&M parlor, nothing more."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, what I'm trying to say is the rule my parents tried to drill into my brain." He paused for a moment, letting Grissom give him a 'get-on-with-it' look. "Think before you act."

"I think-"

"No, I mean... Well, I don't know what I mean anymore. I've already said my point, and it seems like you're not listening so excuse me while I go and find Judy." Greg pushed a button on the machine, letting it whir to life, before getting up and heading towards the door.

"And Grissom, everybody has emotions, whether they're noticeable or not. Look at HAL." Smiling, Greg pushed the glass door opened and started down the hall towards the secretary's desks.


	8. Grissom's Experiment

**Title: Grissom's Experiment**

**Authors Note: Last night I was so flipping tired, and yet, somehow, I managed to write this. Don't know how. Sorry if it's horrible. Once again, I was surprised I could function.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Summary: Case numbers are running high and the teams energy is running low. Greg hasn't slept in a few days.**

**Rating: PG. Could it be? A 'G' rating?? Finally?? Nope, PG for the mention of swearing. I'm Miss Careful.**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

Greg yawned, covering his mouth with his hand, eyes watering and drooping slightly. It had been a day or two since he'd last slept, running mainly on coffee. The crime lab had been running him ragged, as it had been with everyone else. Even Grissom had been seen catching a few minutes of sleep in his office. 

Leaning against the counter in the break room, he took another sip of the dark liquid. Each gulp kept him awake for another five minutes, which was all he needed at the moment until he was allowed to go home. He'd tried crashing on the break room couch, but too many people had entered in search of coffee to let him get fifteen minutes of sleep. Soon, he'd be looking for a closet to take a nap in.

Sara then entered, and she must have gotten at least an hour or two of sleep as she looked refreshed somewhat. Turning her eyes onto the lab tech, she grinned.

"You look horrible." Knowing that she had been waiting for awhile to throw that comment back in his face, he just smirked. "When was the last time you slept?" He shrugged half-heartedly.

"Two, three days?" Sara frowned, and Greg knew it was bad when Sara was getting concerned about your sleeping habits. "I'll be fine. I've got my best friend." He lifted the cup of coffee a little higher, shaking it a little bit, and ended up dropping it.

Swearing, the hot coffee splashing up his legs, he reached for some towels and bent down to clean up the mess. Sara soon joined him, and he could feel her eyes watching him. Once the liquid was mopped up, Greg stood and placed the wet towels in the sink. Let somebody else take care of it.

"Greg... Maybe you should go home." Wearily, he shook his head, and sat heavily on the couch.

"Can't. Told the day shift guy, Jim, I'd take his shift. His mother got admitted to the hospital half an hour before he started." Another yawn forced his mouth open, and this time he didn't bother with covering it up. He was too tired to function, let alone cover anything up.

"Why don't you sleep for fifteen minutes on the couch?" Just then, Warrick and Nick entered, joking around and laughing loudly. Greg merely looked at Sara, who nodded in understanding.

"Hey, Sanders. You look dead. Sure you aren't supposed to be in the morque?" Greg rolled his eyes at the joke. Warrick waited for a response, but when none came, he looked over at Nick who shrugged.

"Greg? Something up?" Sara giggled softly as Greg's head slowly fell forwards.

"I think he's asleep." She lightly pushed him over so that he was now lying on his side, head resting on the arm of the couch. "His neck is going to ache when he gets up, but at least he's sleeping."

"How long has he been up?" asked Nick.

"He told me about three days, and he told the day shift guy he'd cover for him today." Warrick shook his head as he allowed Sara to push both him and Nick out of the room. Shutting the lights off, Sara closed the door and taped a piece of paper onto it declaring, 'Grissom's Experiment – Enter At Own Risk'.

* * *

**I've been meaning to do this, so here it is.**

**pointeboots2000:** Hee. Thanks. Ballet rocks. And thanks for reviewing almost every chapter. Made my day. Judy was in ep... All I remember is that when Grissom asked for help on an experiment, she said, 'I heard about Gregs feet.' She then got to drag Warrick across the floor. The ep. where the cabbie got killed by the gang after running over the kid, who was already dead. Yeah.

**Henrika:** Thankies! I'm glad you liked them.

**Talifiney:** Thanks. I'm always writing mini-stories, so I think there will be many chapters.

**Sillie:** adverts eyes I sometimes like Greg kind of childish. But I'm also a big fan of dry humour and serious Greg. Like carolinecranes character of him. Thanks. huggles back Double thanks!

**Jackie:** Thanks.


	9. Damn Computer

**Title: Damn Computer**

**Authors Notes:** **I can't really remember when I wrote this, or why, but I'm sure I have a very good idea. Anyways, I just found this in my documents, so no exciting story on the making of it. So, as always, enjoy, and please review. Thanks**

Warning: This is a slash fic. Nick and Greg are paired together. There's a small kiss, and a small innuendo at the end for more mature stuff. If you don't like, don't read.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Summary: Greg's having some trouble with his computer. Whatever shall he do?**

**Rating: PG, just to be safe for the ending. Although I'm sure I could get away with a G rating.**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

He hit the computer. Hard. He wasn't Archie, he wasn't a wiz with computer technology. All he used one for was processing DNA. That wasn't something you did at home, unless you were seriously bored, or drunk. 

The screen just continued to stare at him, blank page full of words he hated. The little blinking thing beside him said the internet was working, running, but the actual site page? 'This Page Cannot Be Displayed' his ass.

And what were browser settings? Browser just made him think of that evil guy off Mario. He'd even thought of calling Archie, whining to make the page go away, but he couldn't do that. Archie had a date tonight, or so he bragged, and he knew that if Archie had called him during a date, he'd be pissed.

There wasn't really anybody else that he could call. No way would he call a technical support guy, knowing that the conversation would end with a lot of cursing and the slamming of the phone.

Possibly Sara could help. But did he have her phone number? Quickly searching through the many sheets of paper laying upon the computer desk, and the many post-it notes that surrounded the screen and living space, he gave up. He'd probably lost it. Which wasn't exactly that big of a surprise to him. His office was the only place he let himself be messy. Everywhere else in his house, and even in the lab, he had a place for something, or a place could be found. If there was no where to put it, then did he really need it any way?

Sighing, rubbing his face, he kicked the computer tower. It made a low, crackly sound at him. Muttering obscene words under his breath, he went to shut the machine down. Nothing moved. Not the mouse pointer, not that little blinky thing in the corner. Nothing. The damned thing had froze on him.

Growling at it now, he furiously threw himself off the chair and onto the floor, reaching for the main power button. Head stuck under the desk, butt protruding upwards, he heard footsteps entering the room. Smacking the button, everything shut down before starting back up. Removing himself from the dark space, he looked up.

"What are you doing?" questioned Nick, smirking. Propelling himself upwards, Greg glared back.

"I'm getting ready to throw this thing out the window, that's what." Shaking his head, Nick moved closer to the computer and Greg, a small smile now in place.

"What'd it do now, G?"

"Stupid thing wouldn't let me on the internet. Then it froze." Nick made that 'Ah…' face, as if everything made sense in the world. Crossing his arms, Greg continued, "Don't tell me that you have to be kind to it. It's a machine, and I don't care about it's damned feelings."

"Having an affair with an inanimate object?" Greg merely growled, partly at Nick and partly at the computer, which was now at the start page. Nick sat down and clicked at a few things, typed a couple words, and soon, the internet was waiting innocently for action to start.

"It hates me." Standing up, Nick patted Greg on the shoulder softly.

"Heaven forbid, anything should ever hate you." With a small peck on the cheek, Nick went on his way out of the office and down the hall towards the bedroom. Greg grumbled, took one last look at the computer, and quickly followed Nick.


	10. Twenty Four And A Half

**Title: Twenty-Four And A Half**

**Author Notes: This idea was suggested somewhere on the EFN Forums and I felt the need to write it down. However, I don't think I did it justice, and if you think you can do better, please do.**

Warning: This is a slash fic. Nick and Greg are paired together. It is a huge part of the plot, so if you don't like anything of the slashy sort, then please don't read.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Summary: It's a tough shift for Nick and Greg comes up with the perfect distraction.**

**Rating: Okay, I'm not so sure how this new rating system works, so.. uh.. K+ or a T. I'll go with T.**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

Twenty-one.

That was how many times Nick had walked past the DNA lab that night. And each time, Greg had to stop and watch. Thankfully, Nick had walked past whenever he was alone or with Jacqui, who knew about his hidden obsession. One that she claimed was not as well hidden as he would have liked. But every time he digressed. Tonight was no exception, and Jacqui had finally grown annoyed with him, wandering back to her own lab to do work.

Twenty-two.

If Nick didn't stop it soon, Greg wasn't sure what he'd do. Well, that wasn't the truth, as he knew exactly what he'd do. He'd work, patiently waiting for shift to end; he'd glance at Nick under lowered eyelashes, hoping no one noticed the look, and then he'd go home. That was the routine he had become accustomed to for the past few months.

Twenty-three.

Of course, he'd been pining after Nick for a lot longer than a few months. How anyone was able to keep their hands off him, to act as if he were a regular joe, Greg didn't know. But then again, he did it every night. He swore to Jacqui that one of these nights he'd break and end up doing something embarrassing.

Twenty-four.

Greg wondered what case Nick was working on that night, as he hadn't been in to the DNA lab yet that shift. Whichever one it was, it seemed to be affecting Nick more than usual. Over the years the two had known each other, Greg could only remember a handful of times Nick had gotten this way over a case. And each time, he found himself wishing there was some way he could distract the man, if even for a few moments.

Twenty-four and a half.

This time, instead of going on past the lab, like he'd done the past twenty-four times, Nick had stopped a few feet from the door to talk with Sara. The two spoke in hushed tones, or what Greg thought to be hushed tones, before Sara patted Nick on the arm and walked off. About to go back to work, figuring Nick would continue on his way, Greg was surprised to find that Nick was still standing there, running a hand over his tired face.

And what surprised him even more was that he was getting up, heading towards the door. He saw Jacqui in her lab, staring at him, and she still teased him about the determined look on his face. A look he hadn't even realised he'd been wearing.

He had paused at the lab door, trying to sort out his thoughts, when he saw Nick starting to walk off. As if in a daze, separated from his own body, Greg pushed the door open and stalked up to Nick. Reaching the man, he shoved him into one of the labs glass walls, pressing his own body against Nicks. And then Greg lips were on his, the two melting together to form one.

"Wha… What was that for?" asked a stunned Nick, looking at Greg who had begun to disentangle himself from Nick, eyelids half closed.

"You looked like you could use a distraction." His legs were shaking, contrary to the cool demeanor he was putting on. It was then that he realised the silence of the lab and the number of eyes on the pair. Cheeks flaming, Greg muttered a quick, 'Good luck on the case' before making a hasty exit.


	11. Eskimos Get Married In The Snow

**Title: Eskimos Get Married In The Snow**

**Author Notes: Just something I wrote after the Gay Marriage Bill was passed in parliament. So, yeah. Not saying it's any good though.**

Warning: Greg/Nick which means it's slash. Don't like, then go away. Please.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Summary: Marriage is ordinary, but Greg still wants it.**

**Rating: K**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

Greg rested his cheek on Nick's bare chest, sighing just a little. As Nick started to rub his hand up and down Greg's back, Greg closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of Nick.

"What's wrong?" Greg turned his head to look at Nick, and shrugged. Nick's gaze never wavered and Greg found himself sighing once more.

"I was just thinking…" he began, glancing down awkwardly. "Do you think we'll ever have the chance to get married?"

"G…" Greg knew how the topic made Nick uneasy, but it was something that floated in Greg's mind from time to time.

"I'm not saying we ever will get married, but it'd be nice to have that option, to be treated equally." Greg sat up as he felt Nick starting to do the same.

"I thought you liked being different."

"I do," agreed Greg, nodding. "But sometimes it's nice to have what everyone else has."

Nick leaned forward, placing kisses on Greg's shoulders and back.

"Marriage is just a piece of paper letting the government know what we already do." Greg hunched over slightly, knowing that Nick was trying to understand, and help, but he wasn't.

"I'd still like that piece of paper…" Nick wrapped his arms around Greg, leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"I love you… And if you'd like that piece of paper, then… I guess we're taking a trip to Canada." Rapidly, Greg spun and pinned Nick to the bed.

"Really? You mean it?" Greg couldn't help the grin that was on his face, and saw a grin slowly spread on Nicks also.

"Of course I do." Greg leaned in to give Nick a kiss.

"I love you, too," he muttered between kisses.


	12. The Frog Prince

**Title: The Frog Prince**

**Author Notes: Another quick story that just came to me right when I was about to fall asleep. Also, I'm not sure if you can get warts on your chest, I presume you can, I've never had a wart so I don't know.**

Warning: Slash below the line. (I really need to start writing something other than slash)

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone. I also don't own the story about the frog prince.**

**Summary: Greg notices something abnormal on his chest.**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

"Do you know what this is?" Nick heard Greg call from the bathroom.

Rolling his eyes, Nick replied," If I can't see it, I can't tell you." There was a pause, and Nick felt safe to return to his book.

"Maybe it's one of those mysterious lumps," Greg started up again. "You know, one of those ones that people ignore and the next thing they know, it's twice the size of their head."

Nick put his book down next to him on the couch as he let Greg's words sink in. Then, he managed a, "What?"

Greg appeared next to the couch wearing only boxers, which, Nick took the opportunity to note, looked hot.

"Look!" whined Greg, pointing to a small lump on his chest. Sighing, Nick got up to get a closer look. Upon seeing what it was, he shook his head.

"It's a wart," he commented and sat back down, ready to continue reading.

"What?" came Greg's confused voice. "But I'm not an ugly green witch who turns princes into frogs for girls to kiss."

Nick furrowed an eyebrow. "I'm going to ignore that comment for the moment." He looked up at Greg. "Warts are normal. They happen to everybody. We'll pick up some stuff tomorrow."

"Fine," Greg muttered, pouting as he took a seat beside to Nick. "But if I grow something larger than my head…"

"We'll never leave the bedroom again." Greg glared. "I'll make sure I suffer with guilt for the rest of my life."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, about this frog prince thing."


	13. World Peace

**Title: World Peace**

**Author Notes: No idea where this came from, really. It just sort of did.**

Warning: Slashy slashy. You no likely, then please no ready.

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. CBS, Mr. Jerry B, and Mr. Anthony Z. own all characters and the shows writers own the scripts. No money is being made of this. Only my ideas are mine and are not used with the idea of harming/offending anyone.**

**Summary: Nick knows what happens when Greg calls.**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: None.**

* * *

While heading towards his vehicle, shift over for the night, Nick felt his phone vibrating on his hip. Easily, he pulled it out of the case and flipped it open, muttering 'Stokes' into the mouthpiece.

"Where are you?" was the reply, causing Nick to pause as he reached for his car keys. He pulled the phone from his ear for a moment to glance at the screen before bringing it back.

"What do you want, Greg?" As he opened the car door, he heard a soft 'ow' from the other side. "What are you doing?"

"I thought what I wanted was obvious." There was a small pause before, "Where are you? And what I'm doing is of no concern to you."

Nick placed the keys in the ignition and leaned back in the seat. Glancing around, he answered, "I'm in my car in the parking lot outside the lab. Why? Also, 'what I'm doing is of no concern to you'? Not suspicious at all."

"I need you to pick up some stuff." Another muffled cry of pain was heard, causing Nick to wonder even more what Greg was up to.

"What kind of stuff?" Nick was used to getting a call from Greg every once in awhile, asking for random objects to be picked up on the way home. A home cooked meal, alcohol, and lots of sex usually followed.

"Well, we're out of ketchup, we need some toilet paper, and if they have it on sale, could you pick up a package of world peace?" Nick couldn't help the smile that his lips formed at the old joke.

"I'll be home in thirty minutes." Hanging up, he started the car up and backed out of the parking stall.


End file.
